


Summer In The City

by scarletladyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8821177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletladyy/pseuds/scarletladyy
Summary: On Hermione's day off in a park in Muggle London, the last person she expects to see is Draco Malfoy. Least of all, Draco Malfoy in a chicken suit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for azertykeynes for hp_drizzle 2016 with prompt #55: "It's a sweltering day. Most people go out and enjoy the sun in the park. Draco is stuck inside a chicken suit." 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this! It's completely different to what I usually write but I really enjoyed it.

It was an unusually long, hot summer. Hermione felt as though she hadn't stopped sweating since the start of June, and it was now the middle of August. It was her day off, and she'd decided to go into Muggle London, find a nice park, and sit down and read for the day. It was far too stuffy in her flat, even with all the windows open, so she'd dressed as skimpy as she dared—which wasn't really that skimpy at all, she was sure—and headed on out.

It was nearly midday when she reached what she thought was a nice looking park; there weren't too many children about to disturb her. In the centre of the park was a small cafe, so she decided to grab an ice-cream. As she made her way inside, she passed a tall figure in an chicken costume. She looked a little amused, but walked right on inside and ordered a vanilla cone.

When she received her cone, she went outside to sit down at one of the free tables. She'd been wanting to put her handbag down for a while now—her book weighed a ton—and she was glad of the chance to shove it on the seat next to her.

“Ow! You little—”

Hermione looked up towards the noise; it was the mascot, and that was a male voice coming from the costume. There were children circling him, taking it in turns to poke him with their small fishing rods and fire their water-guns at him. She couldn't see the mascots face, but by the sound of him, he wasn't very impressed.

“Stop that! Stop that now! I'll find your mothers, all of you!”

Hermione couldn't help it; she laughed. She thought she saw the mascot lean towards her, but it must have only been momentarily because the suit stepped backwards to avoid being poked again. She watched as he lost his footing, and all manner of obscenities came out of his mouth as he fell over backwards. He was turning the air blue with his loud, angry voice, which finally seemed to scare the children off. Someone—a manager perhaps—came out of the cafe and chastised the poor chicken mascot while he was trying and failing to right himself, telling him to clear his head and grab a break.

“Fine,” the mascot called after the man and managed to stand up a few seconds later. Hermione watched as he disappeared round the back of the building, and she half wondered if the cafe would ever see him again. Whoever he was, he didn't seem suited to the role.

Hermione finished her vanilla cone and grabbed her heavy bag. She set off to find a free bench, but with so many people out and about on such a hot day, it seemed that would take her quite a while. She couldn't go back to the cafe—that was for patrons only. After walking for several minutes and not being able to find a free bench, she came upon one that was half taken. The other person was perched on the end so there was plenty of room for her, but she hesitated, because that other person was the mascot. And that mascot had taken off its head.

“Malfoy?” Hermione would recognise that mop of blond hair anywhere. “Is that you?” She took a seat on the bench next to him.

A heavy sigh emanated from Draco as he turned to look at her. “Yes, Granger. It's me.”

“What are you...?” He looked rather worse for wear. He looked tired, and more than anything else, he looked _hot_. It must be sweltering inside that chicken suit.

“It's my job.” Draco ran his fingers through his hair. “Go on. Laugh. Take a picture to show your precious Potter.”

Hermione was taken aback; did he really think so little of her? Or perhaps, it was rather what Draco would do if this situation were reversed. Well, Hermione was the bigger person and she was going to prove it. “I wouldn't do that. How long have you been here? Nobody's seen you for months, a year even.”

“About a year,” Draco said. “It's... bearable. Not so much at the moment with this ridiculous heat, or the unruly children off for the summer, but usually the park is quiet.”

“Don't you get bored?”

Draco shrugged. “It's better than the scorn I got from the Wizarding World. The Malfoy name is mud now. There was no way anyone was going to employ me. Then there's my parents, we had a falling out. It just seemed easier for everyone if I left.”

“Oh.” Hermione felt herself feeling sorry for Draco Malfoy for the first time in her life. It was true, Draco probably would struggle to be hired, being a former Death Eater and all. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had retreated into the confines of their manor and were rarely seen, while their peers and their children tried to make a new start. The Parkinsons, for example, were doing very well. She didn't want to mention that to Draco, though, because she got the feeling his friends had dropped him too.

“I don't need your pity, Granger. Leave me alone.”

Without another word, Hermione got up from the bench and left Draco in peace. He was having a bad day, and having your former—enemies, were they? That seemed a bit strong, but they were never friends—see you at your worst was never an inviting prospect. She extended a courtesy to Draco that she was sure if it was her in that chicken suit, he would not grant.

*

A week later and Hermione was back in that London park. She found herself walking towards the cafe, and she told herself it was just for the ice-cream—which hadn't been anything special, if she was telling the truth—but she knew it was really because she wanted to see Draco again. He'd seemed alone, and she didn't want him to be alone in a world he couldn't really understand, no matter how much of an arse he was during their time at school.

There was no mascot outside the cafe today, so Hermione went inside. She couldn't see him there either, so she decided to order another ice-cream. Just as she was paying, Draco came out of the toilets on her right. He rolled his eyes when he saw her and put his chicken head back on and went outside. Naturally, when she received her ice-cream, she followed him.

“It's hot again today,” she said to him.

“What do you want, Granger?” Draco's voice was tired and weary. The heat couldn't be helping his mood, but there were no children about to annoy him today.

Hermione shrugged. “I like the ice-cream.”

“Right.” Draco snorted. She could practically see his eyes rolling through his costume; she knew they almost certainly would be. She didn't blame him. It was a lame excuse. “I'm not your charity case. You don't have to befriend me.”

Now it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. “You really think you know me, don't you? Well you don't.” As much as she said it with conviction, she wasn't so sure she believed herself. He seemed closer to the truth than she liked to admit. “You live in Muggle London, then? A flat?”

Draco nodded.

“You can handle money all right?”

“I'm getting the hang of it. I was never far behind you in any subject, Granger. Don't ever forget that.”

Hermione laughed. “Yes, well, I suppose I'll have to give you that one.” She took at seat at one of the tables and licked her ice-cream. “I've got to know. Why a mascot?”

“Why am I a mascot or why do they need a mascot?”

“Don't play dumb with me, Malfoy. Why did you take the job? It doesn't seem your sort of thing.”

Draco leant towards and spoke very quietly through the side of his mouth. “It's cash in hand.”

“Ahh.” Hermione understood now. Of course, with no Muggle identification or qualifications, Draco would struggle getting a job. Even she would, with her formal education stopping at primary level. It didn't matter how clever you were, with no I.D. or exam results behind you, life would be tough. “Don't your arms ache from holding that sign up all day?”

“They would,” said Draco, “if I wasn't using a spell to stop that from happening.”

Hermione smiled; trust Draco. She'd eaten nearly all of her ice-cream and was now on the cone, which she quickly ate through. It was her favourite part, the wafer at the end. “I hope you're using your magic for good only, Malfoy.”

“If you're going to lecture me—”

Hermione raised her hands in surrender. “No, I'm not. Sorry. I was joking.” She sighed, and hesitated over what she was about to say, unsure if she should say it at all. She decided she would say it; she had nothing to lose by doing so. “Would you like to go out for a drink tonight?”

There was no telling Draco's reaction through his costume. He could be bemused, confused, shocked, disgusted, even, and she wouldn't know. He didn't speak for a moment or so, then said confidently, “Where?”

Hermione pointed to a pub just visible opposite the park. “Seven o'clock?” The chicken head nodded, so Hermione took that as a yes. “Great. See you there.”

*

The pub was crowded, but Hermione had got there an hour early and saved a table. A band was setting up in the corner of the room, so they'd have some entertainment at least if it turned out they couldn't converse with each other or things got awkward. It got to ten past seven, and she began to think Draco wasn't coming. She had people glaring at her for taking up a table for four, and they nearly intimidated her into giving it up when she saw Draco enter. He moved through the crowd swiftly, and then his eyes finally settled on her. He didn't smile, but he did nod at her.

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.” Draco was wearing a tailored black suit. It fit him perfectly. He'd clearly had a shower since work because his hair was freshly shining; smooth and combed back. Now she had a look at him properly, she thought that despite his circumstances, he was doing all right for himself. He clearly wasn't starving, and still had the means to keep up an expensive attire. She'd even go as far to think he was a little handsome, though she wouldn't admit that out loud. “I thought you weren't coming.”

“I got off late, then I had to dash home and have a shower.” He looked down at the drink in front of him. It was an ordinary Muggle beer, but Draco appeared confused. “What is this?”

“It's beer,” said Hermione. “It's like butterbeer, only not. Surely you've come across it in your time in the Muggle world?”

Draco shook his head. “I've been drinking mead—wine, the Muggles call it? And I don't socialise much. At all, really.” He grabbed the glass and took a sip of it; after a moment he nodded his head. “Hmm. Perhaps an acquired taste.”

“Perhaps.” Hermione laughed. She'd never been able to get her head around beer either; it had always been so _bitter_. “I'll grab you a glass of wine if you want—”

“No.” Draco held a hand up. “I'll finish this. It seems to be what all the men are drinking, anyway. Wouldn't want to stand out now, would I?”

The microphone suddenly bleeped into existence. “Testing... 1, 2, 3.”

“Why are we here, Granger?”

Hermione didn't know how to answer that. She wasn't sure she even knew herself. She was curious, of course. She'd delved into a Muggle version of Malfoy and it intrigued her. She wanted to know more about him, and maybe even help him to come back to the Wizarding World if she could. Being a mascot was no place for a Malfoy. She was sure his parents would be horrified if they knew.

“I told you, you don't need to befriend me. I'm fine.”

“I'm sure you are.” Hermione took a sip of her drink, an Australian white wine. She savoured the flavour as she chose her words carefully. “How did you and your parents fall out?”

Draco looked as though he didn't really want to answer that. He looked around the room as though looking for someone he knew, then settled his eyes back on her and seemed to resign himself to answering her question. “They tried to marry me to Astoria Greengrass.”

The band chose that moment to start up, so they had to raise their voices slightly. “Daphne's sister?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn't want to?”

“I don't know the girl!” Draco said a little too loudly, even though the band was playing now. “They said it would improve our social standing. I said I didn't care and walked out.”

As stubborn as Draco appeared to be, Hermione really couldn't blame him. She could only imagine the choice words she'd use if her parents tried to marry her off to someone she didn't even know. “What did you want to do, Malfoy? After Hogwarts, what was your plan?”

“I wanted to be an Auror. Fat chance of that happening now Potter and Weasley have been personally recruited. I read that in the _Daily Prophet_ the day before I left the Wizarding World.” A hint of bitterness came across in Draco's voice, but that was to be expected, she supposed.

“You still could be.”

“Don't be naïve, Granger.”

“It's not naïve,” she countered. “Your O.W.L. results were excellent. I remember, I only just beat you.” She went silent for a moment. “Okay, what else did you like?”

Draco shrugged. “Potions was my favourite subject.”

“So you could be a Potioneer!”

“Yeah?” For a moment Hermione almost believed his surprise, but then his tone settled with her: it was sarcastic. “And who would hire me?”

Hermione pursed her lips together. Why did he have to be so difficult?! Surely _someone_ would hire him. She decided that on her next day off, she would go round all the apothecary shops and find something for him. “Leave that one with me.”

Draco let out a bittersweet laugh. “Well I'm not holding my breath.”

Silence ensured them. They both took repeated sips of their drinks and glanced around the pub, looking as though they were interested in the local band despite it being to neither of their tastes. Hermione could tell this by the pained expression on Draco's face whenever they hit a high note.

“So. What does the great Hermione Granger do now then?”

All of a sudden Hermione lit up. She _loved_ her job. She was only a junior, but she was helping shape the new world. “I work in the Ministry, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I'm helping rewrite some new laws.”

“Impressive.” This time there was no sarcasm. He seemed genuinely impressed by her work. “Day off?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. I get two, of course, but I usually spend the other one with Harry and Ron. They don't know I'm here. I didn't tell them I met you.”

“Er, yeah. Thanks.” It didn't appear to come naturally to Draco to say thank you, especially not to her. He was clearly used to being spoilt and getting everything he wanted, but there was something definitely different about him. This year in the Muggle world had changed him into, dare she say it, a more conscientious individual. “There's something I've been dying to know. Quidditch—any news?”

Of course Hermione didn't follow Quidditch, but she heard enough off Harry and Ron to be able to fill Draco in on all the big bits he'd missed this past year. It started off a myriad of conversations about various different topics, and they didn't find themselves sat in silence again for the rest of the night.

They'd had four drinks each by eleven o'clock, and Hermione was a little tipsy. She wasn't used to drinking so much, she usually only had one, so she felt a little light-headed when she stood up. Draco, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. He must be used to drinking more than her, she concluded.

“Whoa, Granger,” Draco said, catching her arm so she didn't fall over. “Look, do you live far from here?”

“I've a flat in Diagon Alley,” she said, holding onto her head to try to stop it from spinning. Draco was out of focus, but she felt his grip on her left arm as he led her out of the pub and into the warm, evening summer air.

“You're in no fit state to Apparate yourself. Here, grab onto my arm tightly. _Tightly_ , Granger. We don't want to be losing you anywhere. I'm sure Potter and Weasley would think I did it on purpose.”

The Apparition made her head spin even more, but she recognised her front door when they got there. Still holding onto Draco for support, she looked up and into his eyes. They were a deep shade of grey that she'd not noticed before. She felt something go through her, a spark, as he looked back at her as intensely as she was looking at him. With no other excuse than that she was tipsy, she stepped onto her tiptoes and leaned up to kiss him. His lips were as warm as the summer air, and she was both surprised and relieved when he lifted a hand to her cheek and kissed her back.

It was a minute or so before they broke apart, but embarrassment immediately hit Hermione. “I shouldn't have, I'm sorry—”

“No, Granger, it's fine—”

“I need to get inside.” Hermione looked through her bag to try and find her keys, but she was looking so frantically that she couldn't see them.

Draco sighed and pulled out his wand.“ _Accio_ Granger's keys.” They flew up into his hand and he opened the door for her, probably unsure whether or not she could do it herself. “Bye, Granger.”

As Hermione watched Draco leave, a sadness twinged inside her. She shouldn't have kissed him, but the moment had just felt perfect.

*

Instead of spending her next day off with Harry and Ron, she made excuses and instead went round the apothecaries in Diagon Alley. She first tried Slug & Jiggers—the big one—but they wouldn't hear of a Malfoy working in their shop even after her incessant pleading. She then went next door to Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary, but they also said no. Next stop was J. Pippin's Potions. They said no too, but they were very rude about it and practically ushered her out of the shop for even asking. With one last stop to try, Hermione wasn't hopeful. She realised that what Draco had said about the Wizarding World rejecting him appeared to be true.

A little bell above the door of Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions dinged as she entered. It was a very bright shop, decorated in all manner of pinks. It reminded her of Umbridge's office and she let out a little shudder at that thought.

“May I help you, dear?” Madam Primpernelle came out of a back room, a wide smile on her face.

“I've come about a job.”

“Ahh, yes, I was looking for a junior Potion mixer, but I haven't seem to have had any takers. What's your name?”

“Oh.” Hermione smiled. “It's not for me, it's for a... friend. He had excellent O.W.L. Results and received an Outstanding in Potions.”

“Excellent!” Madam Primpernelle beamed. “Tell me, who is this mysterious Potioneer?”

Here's where Hermione hesitated. “Draco Malfoy.” She said his voice so quietly she wasn't sure Madam Primpernelle had even heard her. It appeared she had though, and there was no shock or surprise on her face, in fact she nodded her head as though she was thinking about it.

“Okay,” said Madam Primpernelle, and Hermione braced herself for another rejection. “Tell him to come in for an interview tomorrow.”

Hermione was so surprised that she almost forgot to say thank you as she burst out of the shop to go and tell Draco. If the interview went well, he could come back to the Wizarding World. She Apparated to just outside the park and went inside it, heading straight towards the cafe. She could already see Draco in his chicken costume as she she walked towards it; he was facing the other direction. She still felt embarrassed about kissing him the other night but she'd decided to put this ahead of that.

“I've got great news!” Hermione declared, tapping the chicken on the shoulder to get him to turn around.

“Afternoon, Granger. I wondered when I'd be seeing you again.”

“Today's your last day in the chicken suit. I've got you an interview at a Potioneer's tomorrow.”

“What?!” Draco was so surprised he took off his chicken head. “Seriously? You're not playing with me, Granger?”

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “Seriously.”

“Where?”

“Madam Primpernelle's.” Hermione was worried Draco might instantly reject it, but his smile never wavered and he nodded.

“Great!” Draco dropped his chicken head on the floor and called out to someone in the cafe. “Hey, Mike. I quit!” He quickly pulled off the rest of the costume and left that on the floor too, and before this Mike person could come out to yell at him, Draco took off. Hermione had no choice but to follow him as he ran further into the park. Eventually, when it seemed Mike wasn't after them, they came to a stop, both a little breathless. “I'll convert all my money into Galleons tomorrow then I'll be able to sort somewhere to live. Thanks, Granger. Really, thanks.”

Draco definitely wasn't being sarcastic this time, Hermione knew that for sure. He seemed so happy, and it made her happy to think that she'd done that for him. “Not a problem.”

“I'd better go back home, have a shave and shower and sort out some suitable robes for tomorrow.”

“Hey, let me know how you get on at the interview.”

“I will,” Draco promised, setting off towards the back entrance of the park. “Thanks again, Granger.”

It was only a small thing that she'd done, and he'd have to do the rest like finding somewhere to live and hopefully making a truce with his parents, but it was a start and she was confident that this new more conscientious Draco would be able to survive in the Wizarding World once more.

*

It was the end of what felt like a very long day, and Hermione was glad to be going home. She was exhausted, and it was so stuffy in the office that she couldn't wait to get back and open all the windows for some fresh air. She Apparated from the Ministry straight to her front door, only when she got there she bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry!” Hermione exclaimed, not really expecting anyone to be stood on her front step. “Draco?”

“Hey,” Draco said, hands in his trouser pockets. There was a grin on his face that looked like he couldn't suppress even if he wanted to. “I got the job!”

“Really? That's wonderful news!” Hermione jumped forward and hugged him, as she would with any of her friends. She wasn't sure if it was a mistake or not, because she and Draco weren't exactly friends. They were more.... friendly acquaintances. He seemed to embrace the hug, placing his hands around her and stroking her back before they drifted apart again.

“I just had to tell you in person. To thank you, as well. It wouldn't have been possible without your help, I'm sure.”

Hermione smiled. “Well I'm glad I could help. Do you want to come in for a drink?”

“No,” Draco said, and Hermione felt the disappointment in her stomach. She didn't realise she cared so much. “I've got to go home and get ready for my first day tomorrow. But, Granger?”

“Yes?”

A pause as Draco ran his fingers through his sleek hair. “Do you want to go on a date with me sometime? I mean, only if you want to, you don't have to, in fact I'm sure you'd rather not—”

“ _Of course_ I want to,” Hermione stressed excitedly. “Owl me a suitable time and we'll set something up.”

Draco nodded. “Goodnight, Granger.”

“Night Malfoy,” Hermione said as she left herself into her flat. As she went to put the tea on, she couldn't help but grin madly at the thought of a date with Draco Malfoy. Never would she have thought she'd think that a few weeks ago, but she'd seen a different side to him, a side that she liked and wanted to get to know more about.

That night, Hermione went to sleep dreaming about her date—what she would wear, where they would be going, and how much she would actually get to know about the real Draco Malfoy. Whatever else the date turned out to be, it would certainly be an interesting one.


End file.
